


The Illusion

by rachelisconfused



Category: Game Grumps, Ninja Sex Party - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, fake band, mention of drug use
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-30
Updated: 2015-11-30
Packaged: 2018-05-04 03:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5318312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rachelisconfused/pseuds/rachelisconfused
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Taking the idea of a "fake punk rock band" too literally, you and your band, The Illusion, decide to revive the band when times are tough in order to make a few extra bucks. However, halfway through the mission, you meet a very curious guy, Danny Avidan, who demands to know exactly what you're up to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Illusion

Your leathers jacket didn’t fit like it used to. Granted, you weren’t the same as you used to be, but you’d always believed that this one thing in your life would remain the same. It’d been almost two years since you wore that leather jacket and done exactly as expected of you. But this time around, wearing it wasn’t caused by fun, but rather, it was fueled by the need for money and survival. You’d gotten the phone call around 2:30 AM from your former friend and bandmate, informing you that he was low on cash and wanted to revive the band for one more concert.  
The plan was the same as it had been two years ago—simple and practically foolproof. You’d arrive to the local college where the party was held at half past eight, mingle for a bit and make sure that everyone was stoned out of their minds, preform with the rest of your band at nine, take a short break while the rest of the band played, stuff your pockets with virtually anything that would fit, and perhaps preform again if you were up for it.  
“The Illusion” was created three years ago when you and a few of your friends were practically drowning in debt and ramen noodles. You were highly against the idea at first, but once you noticed just how bad your habit was becoming, you decided that it was better to steal for good. Your “friends” and later “bandmates” talked you into it, saying that it was more of a Robin Hood situation, rather than an actual robbery. Thus, “The Illusion” began, taking the idea of a “fake punk rock band” to heart.  
Your first “concert” was definitely the hardest, as you figured. As soon as you began singing, the guilt made its way into your stomach, manifesting its place there. But the crowd seemed to be enjoying it and your bandmates were only pushing you further to follow through with the plan. Taking a quick break halfway through the set, you took your backpack and began to fill it to the brim with anything of worth as your bandmates continued to play. After carefully hiding it in the back of your car, you returned to finish up the set before leaving for the night and counting your monetary gain.  
This night, however, the feeling in your gut was festering, making almost everything painful and full of guilt. After almost two years of not stealing for reasons like these, it felt so wrong. Your bandmates noticed this, of course, and only tried to pressure you even more than before. Reluctantly, you made your way to the makeshift stage that had been created for the four of you. Singing was easy. It had always come naturally to you. As soon as you opened your mouth, you felt almost at home. As soon as the crowd got into it, you practically forgot about what was required of you.  
This feeling was only short lived, however. After four or five songs—you’d honestly lost count considering how excited you were that people seemed to be enjoying themselves—your bandmate, the one pretending to be the drummer, called your name and told you that it was time for you to take your “break”.  
“Excuse me, everyone,” you called into the mic that you were clinging onto. The guilt in your stomach was now pounding, almost causing you to vomit. “I’m sorry to admit it, but I now have to take a break. Please enjoy the sweet instrumental styling of the rest of our band while I make a quick stop in the bathroom.”  
As you made your way through the crowd, you felt several pats on your back, as well as congratulations of those watching the show. Sure, you knew they were only happy considering they were unbelievably high, but it still caused the bile to rise up into your throat, threatening to overflow if you didn’t stop.  
But you couldn’t. You had to do this.  
You needed to do this.  
Your fingers began to tingle as you slipped through people’s pockets and purses, pulling out any valuables they may have had. Thankfully, everyone was now focused on the drum solo coming forth from the stage, not noticing your quick fingers. Your backpack that you grabbed from the back wall was now being filled with cash, valuable jewelry, makeup, a few pocket knives, and even a few bags of weed, knowing that your friends could sell it elsewhere.  
As you rounded the corner, preparing to go into a few of the rooms and take things of value there, you felt a tap on your shoulder, causing you to jump up in surprise. Turning around, you were met by a smiling guy. The first two things you noticed about him was his height and his hair. He was incredibly lanky and extraordinarily thin—probably too much for his own good. And his hair, goodness gracious. His hair deeply reminded you of a bird’s nest—crazy and unmanageable, sticking out in every direction. You giggled at the sight of it before realizing that you were probably caught by a stranger.  
“Geez, man. Don’t you know better than to scare a girl like that?” you joked. Mentally, you were hoping and praying that he hadn’t seen anything and was only here to tell you that he loved the show or something.  
He chuckled at your response before holding out his hand for you to shake it. You reluctantly shook it, wanting to look innocent in all of this. “You’re right. I’m so sorry.”  
“Don’t worry about it. All’s well.”  
“I just wanted to say that your voice is phenomenal, by the way.”  
You let out a discreet sigh of relief before smiling up at him. “Thank you. That means a lot.”  
“Oh, my name is Danny.”  
“Well, thank you, Danny,” you responded. “But if you excuse me, I really have to go to the bathroom.”  
“Yeah, of course,” he replied. “It’s the third door on your right.”  
Sticking out his hand to point to the restroom, Danny accidentally hit your slightly open backpack, causing it to crash to the ground. As it collided with the floor, several of the stolen contents tumbling out and landing on the floor. Quickly, you raced for it, but not before Danny realized exactly what it was.  
“Did you…” he began.  
“No!” you quickly countered, realizing that it probably only made you seem guiltier.  
“You stole all of this!”  
Acting quickly, you scooped everything back into your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and raced into the nearest empty bedroom. You just made it to the window and hurled it open, prepared to escape, before Danny grabbed onto your arm and pulled you away.  
“You don’t understand!” you shouted, trying to free yourself.  
“No, I think I do. You steal for fun.”  
“You think I do this for fun?”  
“Clearly!” Danny shouted, growning angrier.  
“I do this because I can’t help it! I do this because it’s the only way I can survive! I would never steal for fun!” you explained.  
“What the hell do you mean by that?” he demanded.  
“I just can’t shake the feeling,” you whispered. “I assure you that I don’t want to, but I just can’t not take things. The feelings just boils inside of me and doesn’t stop until I have it in my hands.”  
“That’s it. I’m calling the cops.”  
“No!” you pleaded quickly, grabbing onto his arm. “You can’t. Please don’t!”  
“You’re a kleptomaniac,” Danny said, apparently trying to reason. “You need help.”  
Acting hastily, you did the only thing you thought to do. You grabbed the collar of his shirt with your free hand and pulled him in for a kiss. Danny practically froze, unsure of what to do, but you only continued until he finally started kissing in return. He slowly became more relaxed and loosened his grip on your hand. Trying to distract him even more, you let go of his shirt collar and travelled your hand up to his bushy hair and buried your fingers in it. He let out a small moan, only giving you more satisfaction. Using your other, unoccupied hand, you gently found your way to his back pocket and pulled out his wallet.  
“Pleasure doing business with you,” you breathed as you pulled away from the kiss. Before he could react you scurried to the window and hurriedly jumped out of it.  
As you ran off into the darkness, you turned back to face him, laughing at the sight. He was leaned up against the window frame, searching desperately for the wallet that you had snatched from him.  
A job well done, if you had to say so yourself.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!  
> xoxo


End file.
